


Hanging Out

by Tessa54



Series: Making Progress [10]
Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27810655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessa54/pseuds/Tessa54
Summary: A training exercise doesn't go quite according to Hannibal's plan but Face has a plan of his own.
Relationships: H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck
Series: Making Progress [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021144
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	Hanging Out

“Alpha Tango 2 to Alpha Tango 1, come in. Over,” Face said quietly into the walkie-talkie as he moved stealthily through the trees, M-16 slung over his right shoulder. “Alpha Tango 2 to Alpha Tango 1, do you receive me? Over.”

The radio crackled briefly and Face breathed a sigh of relief.

“Gotcha, Kid. 5 by 5. Where the hell are you?” Face grinned. Hannibal had drummed radio procedure into each and every member of the Team but, somehow, he never felt the need to follow it himself. Face adjusted his pack and leaned his back against a large tree, giving himself at least some cover, and thumbed the Transmit button again.

“Alpha Tango 2 to Alpha Tango 1. About 3 miles south and west of your last observed position, by my dead reckoning. Is the baby still asleep? Over.”

A chuckle. “Yeah, BA’s still dead weight. Probably for another couple of hours. Have you got Murdock with you? How long till you get here?” Dead air.

Face sighed. Being XO to a jazzed-up Colonel could be extremely stressful, and never more than on these ‘training exercises’ that Hannibal insisted that the Team endure from time to time. His current brainwave, a simulated ‘ditch and crash’, had called for Face to scam the use of a plane and pilot, no questions asked. Face could understand the need for the Team to stay sharp, especially given their situation, but really…? 

He thumbed the Transmit button again. “Alpha Tango 2 to…” Hannibal dropped a carrier on Face’s transmission and cut in.

“Stow it, Face. Just give me a Sitrep without all of the fancy stuff. Do it now. Over.”

Face grinned again. “Okay, Hannibal. Whatever you want. I watched you and BA to the ground, so I have your position. We jumped just about immediately after that. But those winds were pretty savage and we got a little bit separated. I don’t have Murdock right now, but he’s gotta be around here somewhere. Gimme a minute to find him then we’ll vector to your position. Over.”

“Yeah, call me when you’ve got him, Lieutenant. And don’t take all day about it. You’ve got the cigars.”

“Roger that. Over and out.”

_Honestly_ , thought Face, _is there really any point in trying to maintain correct radio procedure?_

Stowing the radio in his pocket, he moved forward again carefully, searching the terrain in his view, mostly large trees, high and low. He caught a glimpse of white to his left and moved in that direction. He could hear the thrashing and the complaints delivered in a Texan drawl long before his view of the scene was clear.

For the third time in ten minutes, Face sighed. This time he sighed loudly and forcefully, dropping his head in disbelief. He looked up. Murdock was suspended about 40 feet above his head, the silk of his parachute caught on the limbs of two adjacent trees.

“Keep still, buddy,” Face called up.

Murdock was annoyed; Murdock – Murdock, of all people! – was actually cursing; Murdock was not keeping still. He looked down.

“And where the hell have you been…” he growled, glaring down at Face, an aggrieved expression on his face, “…while I’ve been hanging around up here with the birdies?”

Face waved his arms, palms down, trying to indicate gentleness and calm. “Please, Murdock, keep still. I’ll come right up and get you. It’ll be fine…” He studied the trees, trying to figure his best route up. But it wasn’t to be.

“Oh, yeah? Fine, huh?” Murdock ground out, with a particularly violent wriggle. Then in a panic-stricken squeak… “Oh, shit, Facey, I’m falling…” And he was. That last violent wriggle had ripped the silk free of its tenuous hold on the branches and pilot and parachute plunged downwards. Face covered his eyes with his hands, not willing to watch. He was showered by an avalanche of leaves and twigs.

The crashing descent stopped. Face opened his eyes, hardly daring to breathe. And stared at Murdock’s groin from a distance of about a foot. The shrouds had caught on branches once again and brought the pilot to rest, unharmed, his feet dangling a short distance from the ground.

Face sighed for the fourth time: this time the sigh was a prayer of thanks. He reached out and clasped Murdock’s hips, supporting him.

“I got you, buddy,” he murmured.

Face looked up. Murdock, eyes closed tightly, was clutching the parachute harness in a death grip. Face gave an experimental tug on Murdock’s hips – no, that thing was solid; he wasn’t about to fall any further. The parachute harness isn’t gonna be in the way. Near-death experience. Why not? Face smiled and unzipped Murdock’s khakis. His hand delved inside.

Murdock’s eyes shot open and he looked down. Face was gazing up at him, that little smile on his lips; left arm supporting Murdock’s hips, right hand inside his pants. Face raised an eyebrow, enquiringly.

Murdock lifted his legs, wrapped them around Face’s waist and pulled him in; and, just so that there could be no doubt, he said, “Oh, yeah, baby. You bet.” Face leaned in, opened his mouth, and gently took his lover inside.

Things were going wonderfully well. For once, Face had his lover at the perfect height and the perfect angle; Murdock was relaxed, aroused and Face was taking him to the seventh heaven. The gentle breeze was swaying the branches and, through them, the parachute and the pilot and adding an extra dimension to the experience. The pleasurable proceedings were reaching a conclusion…

The radio in Face’s pocket crackled ominously. Face groaned quietly, but continued.

“Hey, Kid, where the hell are you? Have you found Murdock? What’s your status? Report, Lieutenant.”

Face, with his mouth full, flicked his eyes up at Murdock, who gritted his teeth and shook his head. He held out one hand and put the other on Face’s head, holding him in place. Face reached into his pocket, pulled out the radio and slapped it into Murdock’s hand.

“Yes, Colonel, we’re both here,” Murdock managed, breathlessly. “Facey’s busy at the moment – er – checking out the area. But we will be there quite soon.”

“So you’re on the way, Murdock?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” Murdock gasped. “Coming real quick. Coming right now. Over and out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober 2020.  
> October 9th: Suspension.


End file.
